


The Prince In The Tower

by taichara



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-22 13:04:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4836419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taichara/pseuds/taichara
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of Otto's death, Noin pays Zechs a visit -- and finds herself with someone else entirely.</p><p>... well, maybe not "entirely".</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Prince In The Tower

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redsixwing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redsixwing/gifts).



Of course he'd pushed himself too far.

Of _course_ he did. For Noin to have expected anything else would have been to wish for the moon in her hands. Pushing too far -- too far, too much guilt, too much punishment -- was what Zechs seemed to live for. Sometimes, she thought it was what he _existed_ for, but she'd never gotten up the nerve to actually ask.

Not that she'd had the opportunity that evening, in any case. Not with his mad, frantic lunge after Otto (how much did the med team pump into him to finally get him back in the cot and staying there?); and not after he -- a pale ghost, haggard and drawn even under that twice-damned mask -- had defied all reason and medical realities and gone after the downed Tallgeese himself.

Had retrieved Otto himself.

He'd said nothing, when he'd returned. Only carried his fallen into the biouvac to be cleaned up, tiny tremors betraying the strain of the situation, and then -- just as silently, almost meekly -- turned himself over to the medical personnel.

Now he was sleeping again, if fitfully, and Noin found herself at unwanted loose ends until he woke. Sprawled on her own cot, she stared through the canvas above her head and wished she could see the stars.

_He said he put Milliardo Peacecraft to death when we arrived in Sanc._

_But that wasn't Zechs who ... That wasn't Zechs who came back tonight._

No, indeed. There had been nothing of the soldier in him then, mask be damned. But it _was_ Zechs who needed to answer the summons from Treize that had already arrived. Oh, and she could just imagine the potential problems if that summons tipped the proverbial scales just a _little_ too far ...

_He needs time to be ready to face OZ -- and Treize._

_Damn it! Onegell needed to die, but -- was it worth it? Is it worth it?_

_... No, I'm not going to question that now. He needed to die. The same way -- that Otto did what he needed to do._

_Now I need to do my part._

-*-

Out of bed at the crack of dawn, Noin had been certain she'd be ready and waiting for when he woke up -- so she was taken aback to see him already awake, if not quite alert, and gingerly picking at what the med team had decided was on the breakfast menu.

She was even more taken aback to see the helmet set aside, sitting on the floor next to the cot. Her mouth opened to question, and then he caught her gaze with his --

There was a tired, rueful look in the pale blue eyes, a touch of resignation that didn't surface often. Noin pulled over a camp chair, settled onto it, and chose her opening volley very carefully.

"Good morning. Still resting in there?"

A flash of startlement; then the faintest of smiles, flicking so quickly that she nearly missed it.

"Yes. I can manage this much for the time being. It's the least I can do."

Slightly different inflection; and that was all the confirmation Noin needed. Well. This was hardly the outcome she'd expected ... and for a moment, she wondered if that had been Otto's ulterior motive all along.

_I think I'll leave that alone for now, though._

"How're you feeling? The last day or so hasn't exactly been gentle, after all."

"Mmn ..."

He glanced away, shoulders tensing, and she bit her lip. Damn it. But it didn't last -- mercifully -- and he shook his head, wincing at the jostling he gave himself in the process.

"... If I were inclined to say 'better', I'd be lying, and I can say that when no one else happens to be here. What that flight didn't do, last night's ... necessity ... finished off. I can feel echoes of the effort and I am _not_ looking forward to the recovery phase."

"At least the doctors cleared your records of any lasting internal damage. Bruises and bad ribs are better to deal with than giving yourself a heart attack!"

Noin didn't even bother to hide her exasperation. He rasped out a chuckle.

"But it's necessary, isn't it?"

Then, softer --

"... Leaving that Tallgeese unmanned after Otto's sacrifice would be unacceptable."

Ouch. It was her turn to wince, now.

_Truth does hurt, doesn't it ..._

"... Noin -- Lucrezia, I apologize. That was very low of me, right now, and I haven't even the excuse of the painkillers to make up for it. I just ..."

He trailed off, shaking his head again, and she sighed inwardly. It seemed like it didn't matter what -- or who -- was involved, he just could not manage to admit his own pain. At least not when it wasn't physical pain. 

A flicker of sunlight snaked through the gaps in the doorflaps, making the abandoned helmet glint; the withering glare she gave it could have melted gundanium. That right there; that was the tangible symbol of all the loss, all the skullduggery, all the masks ...

'It's not so bad as you look like you're thinking, Lucrezia. Being at a remove is all that I have, sometimes."

 _What._

What was that, just then? Alarmed, she shot out of her seat and leaned over the cot. Comments like that were not even remotely in character; and that wasn't the kind of thing that needed to be overheard by nosy soldiers --!

"I think someone needs to check the dosage of the horse pills they're giving you --"

"I'm fine ... Noin. We all just need --"

"Well, _we_ need to answer a summons from Treize as soon as we're able. Which doesn't look like it's happening for at least another day, unless you want to walk in looking like a corpse."

\-- which was a fair assessment, morbidly helped along as his face drained of what little colour he had. 

"That ... will be a very interesting meeting. And not something I'd look forward to."

Noin chose to take that as an oblique confirmation that Zechs would be up and running despite recent events. Whether it was a good sign or a bad sign, though, she wasn't certain ... and then she noticed how he was clutching the rough bedding of the cot so tightly his knuckles were blanched. Heedless of her straying attention, he continued on.

"There's so much -- I expected the hate to die, Lucrezia. It hasn't. What am I ..."

There he went again. Damnit, anyway, a distraction was needed and needed _yesterday_ \--

"You're someone who just nearly killed himself piloting a murderous mobile suit and then lost a close lieutenant to the same machine. You're tired, battered, and under stress and a metric ton of drugs and it's making you talk nonsense."

Somehow she managed to deliver the 'lecture' without cracking up at the weary amusement on his face, or breaking down under the weight of the entire situation herself. So, she chose amusement. Leaning over again, she tweaked one straggling lock of cream-coloured hair.

"You _also_ look a mess. You're not going to do yourself any favours turning up to a meeting looking like you stuck your head in a wind tunnel. Sooo I guess I'd better help you with that or it's going to be unmanagable by the time the sawbones let you take care of it yourself.

"And don't start protesting! It's not going to work --!"

\-- and she was gone in search of comb and brush, leaving him trying desperately not to laugh so hard it added to his pile of pains.

-*-

"There, that's getting better. I thought I'd be using a _knife_ in places, what'd you do to yourself --"

He'd been flying Tallgeese, of course, then tossing and turning and flailing and escaping the biouvac to look for Otto. Then tossing and thrashing some more. All of which contributed to the ferocious snarls Noin had had to oh-so-carefully pick out with the spike of the comb. 

The damn helmet probably never helped, either.

But the real mess was dealt with, now, and they were both grateful for it. It was much, much easier -- and more satisfying for both of them -- for her to be able to simply brush the pale fall until it fell as unblemished as she could make it, given the circumstances. With her chair hard against the side of the cot (she'd have never dared to try to sit on the flimsy thing), he'd twisted around and half leaned back against her; she could see the bruises coming in, but he was still mostly sitting under his own power and oh, how she thanked god for his speedy recovery ...

"If I ever saw you reaching for a knife --"

"Come on, you know I'm kidding."

The brush came down rhythmically, gliding down through his hair, digging lightly at his scalp, and he sighed.

"I know. I know. ... Thank you."

"Always."

Brush, brush; stroke after stroke, careful and almost lingering. A bit more tension drains from him, and Noin felt a pang of guilt for her next, careful question.

'So, Treize ...?"

A sigh.

"I am not going to face him. I'm not ready, not yet. I thought this would end it, but -- no. It hasn't. And ... what I've done ..."

"We can't very well skip this, you know."

Brush, brush; let his hair fall though the bristles, start again.

"I know. He wants to meet with Colonel Zechs Merquise, and he will. It will have been more than enough time for rest by then ... at least, for that purpose. Otto ...

"I don't think that's going to fade quickly. I know it won't. What he did for me ..."

"Shh."

The desire to comfort warred with a wave of relief that crashed over her like a tsunami. Zechs wasn't going to just fold up and fade away; for that, she'd do whatever she needed to do for him.

Brush; brush ...

"It's going to work out. We'll _make_ it work.

"You just trust me, and don't get yourself killed either."

Another sigh, this one from some bottomless place; but tinged with something Noin at least hoped was acceptance. And he leaned against her, eyes suddenly sliding slowly closed.

"... I'll try, Lucrezia. That much I can promise. We'll talk about it all again, I'm sure ..."

... and he was all but asleep. Noin continued a little longer, the brushstrokes more for her own comfort now; then she eased him back into a sensible position for sleep, and drew her chair away.

Before she slipped out, she placed the helmet within easy reach.

Zechs was going to need it.


End file.
